


Shattered

by FacelessGhoul (MorphineFangs)



Category: Bleach
Genre: Angst, Angst and Humor, Angst and Tragedy, Attempt at Humor, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Body Horror, Cannibalism, Caring Kenpachi, Character Death, Decapitation, Dismemberment, Disturbing Themes, Drama, Dry Humor, Graphic Description of Corpses, Hollow Ichigo and Kenpachi share witty and not so witty banter, Hollow Ichigo muses about fellatio, Horror, Ichigo turns into a monster, Implied Relationships, Insanity, Kenpachi and Hollow Ichigo become friends, Lowkey Intelligent Kenpachi, Morbid, Mutilation, No Romance, No Sex, Some Humor, Tragedy, Violence, dirty humor, excessive crying, graphic depictions of cannibalism, implied homosexuality, mindless slaughtering, no actual fellatio though, no official pairings, there aren't any pairings but there will be jokes and such made
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-21
Updated: 2016-04-21
Packaged: 2018-06-03 16:38:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6618217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorphineFangs/pseuds/FacelessGhoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Gotei 13 have decided that a hollow, even if it is part of Ichigo, cannot be allowed to exist.  It has been ordered for its removal, effective immediately.  </p><p>... however, Soul Society is about to find out just what happens when you try to play with someone's soul bonds...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Condemned

**Author's Note:**

> This story won't be for the faint of heart. I don't intend to do 'romance' for this one. Just horror, gore, and way too much death.
> 
> I hope you're ready to cry a lot, because you probably will.

“It’s decided,” Yamamoto-Soutaicho stated with a certain finality that conveyed there would be no arguing with whatever this decision was… or else.  “For the good of not only all of Seireitei, but all of humankind, and Kurosaki Ichigo himself, Kurosaki will undergo a procedure to remove his hollow.

The man then looked to the black and white faced mad scientist of the Twelfth Division, “Kurotsuchi-Taicho, when is the soonest you will have a laboratory ready for the procedure?”

Not even sparing a glance at the Soutaicho, Kurotsuchi Mayuri openly leered at Kurosaki, who was in fact in attendance to this particular meeting (considering it did pertain to him), “Immediately.”

The orange-haired shinigami scowled.  Of course he’d had no say in this.  Not even so much as a fair trial; the least that would have been given as was his right had they been in the human world.

Unbeknownst to any but said orange-haired young man, the mentioned hollow himself was screeching in outrage within the recesses of Ichigo’s mind.  He was clamoring to be let out to ‘knock some sense into those useless dunderheads’.  Briefly, Ichigo even considered humoring Shiro simply because of the hilarity of the idea.

Nonetheless, it was a bad idea.  No matter how ridiculously powerful his hollow was, they were still outnumbered fourteen to one.  Despite the fact he could most likely easily take down most of the captains alone, Yamamoto made chance of doing so (let alone escape) nigh impossible.

So it was with a resigned sigh Ichigo allowed himself to be forcefully led by the shackles around his arms and neck, out toward the Twelfth Division.  Every step forward made his dread grow evermore until he felt as if he was suffocating on his own terror.

He didn’t like the idea of this one bit.  Though Shiro was a hollow, no doubt about that, the ‘corrupt’ part of his soul had grown on him.  This was no mere coincidence.  The hollow had saved Ichigo many a time, and he’d thusly grown to feel a sort of compassion and kinship toward his inverted, pale counterpart.

In a way, Shiro _was_ him, but also not.  For all intents and purposes, Shiro was a part of him.  Ichigo may have even grown to be dependent on the hollow, but with good reason, for who could he trust if not himself?

Now, meddling shinigami who knew nothing of what they were dealing with were threatening to rip this vital part of Ichigo’s soul away from him.  To take Shiro away, as if he were some burden or disease that Ichigo needed to be cured of.

Ichigo’s protests on the matter had been all for naught.  The fact he was seen as a sort of savior for the Seireitei meant nothing in the face of this dilemma.

Panic was tightening his throat.  Speeding his heartbeat.  He was faintly aware that his breath rate was at such a high speed that he was no longer getting enough oxygen for his brain to function properly.

 _Oh. I’m hyperventilating,_ he thought dully to himself.  He couldn’t muster the will to care.   _Perhaps,_ he mused, _I’m in shock._

It made sense.  By all means, he should have been frantically attempting to escape.  He should have been screaming for help.  He should have been fighting tooth and nail to break his bonds and get away from his captors.

Or maybe he just knew it wouldn’t be worth the energy he’d exert.  Escape was impossible.  The removal procedure was inevitable.

He proceeded like a man to the gallows, head hung low.

If he was lucky, Shiro’s removal would kill him quickly and he wouldn’t have to live for any short period of time to suffer the loss.  He didn’t fear death itself, although he did feel a twinge of guilt that his inner hollow who so very much hated even the thought of dying would be destroyed quite soon.

If he could, he’d sacrifice himself to allow Shiro to live on.  That was nothing short of impossible however, as this whole situation was geared toward eradicating his inner hollow.

“I’m sorry, Shiro,” he whispered, for the hollow’s benefit.

Byakuya, who was one of the four guards tugging him along slowly swept his gaze toward the orange-haired menace, having heard the boy speak.  He watched Ichigo suspiciously, but Ichigo just looked away with a scowl.

Kenpachi, Toshiro, and Soifon were the other three guards.  Needless to say, three out of these four guards were the least likely shinigami to show Ichigo the slightest bit of compassion, and the only way Kenpachi would break him loose was if there was promise of a great battle to the death.  Soutaicho had picked the perfect people to assure he’d never escape this terrible nightmare.

A short distance ahead, proudly leading them toward his own ward was Kurotsuchi Mayuri himself.  The smug bastard.

He couldn’t wait to tear into Kurosaki and rip out that hollow of his.  Maybe he’d even be able to run a few… experiments… on the strange anomaly.  Yes, that sounded marvelous.

No one would miss the hollow anyway.  He’d be free to do with the thing whatever he wished, and the entirety of Seireitei would be none the wiser.

As Mayuri continued to walk much farther ahead, Ichigo did not seem to follow (thus far unbeknownst to the black and white man).

Ichigo abruptly found he was no longer in control of his own body.

Thrust out of control and into the proverbial backseat of his mind, Ichigo watched through the eyes of his hollow and felt the phantom sensations of his physical body going rigid for but a moment.  As quickly as his body had gone out of motion, causing all the guards to curiously stop with him, he was back in motion.

Despite the reiatsu suppressing leashes, he felt as his and Shiro’s combined reiatsu pressed at the blockage persistently.

Lightning fast, the restraints snapped and disintegrated in visible blood-red reiatsu that formed an ominous aura around him.  All the guards used a shunpo to hop back and out of the way as Shiro threw his head back and let out an echoing, primal shriek.  His reiatsu only climbed higher.

Byakuya and Soifon were first to drop to their knees from the pressure in the air, even with the several meters of distance they’d put between themselves and Shiro.  Toshiro fell to his knees as well a few seconds later.

Kenpachi was the only one to remain standing, but was visibly sweating from the strain, though not very much.

Shiro dropped his head back down to a more natural position as his Vasto Lorde form materialized upon Ichigo’s physical form.  His distinctive mask with sneering skull and wicked sharp curved horns was firmly in place.

He lowered said horns and quickly charged a cero, firing in point blank at Kenpachi as the man leapt at him.  The insane captain barely took any damage from the ridiculously powerful cero, oddly enough, but was nonetheless thrown back sufficiently far and would take a while to return to the fray and give Shiro difficulties.

Kenpachi briefly occupied, Shiro whipped around and darted in a sonido too fast for even Soifon to follow, which was the exact shinigami he appeared beside.

His movements were vicious and quick.  He grabbed the female captain’s forearm.  He settled a foot against her chest.  Knocked her to the ground.  

He gave a strong tug at the arm in his vice-like grip.  There was a tandem of snapping and wet tearing.  All captains present would have had to be deaf not to hear it.

A few things happened in less than half a minute.

It took ten seconds for Soifon to register her arm had been torn off.

It took two more to register the pain.

Two seconds later, she finally let out a tortured screech in agony.

Another five seconds went by before anyone started to take action.  Byakuya surged forward to attack.

But in the time it took all this to happen, Shiro was already behind Toshiro.  He kicked one of the young captain’s legs so hard a loud snap was heard as blood spurted.  The white of jagged bone was stark in contrast to the gore of the captain’s leg.

The nasty break sent the white-haired boy to the ground and wrenched a pained scream from him before he could think to suppress it.

Byakuya was next on Shiro’s attack list.  He flung Soifon’s arm at the stoick, long-haired captain— an attack which was easily countered.  The man was thrown off kilter in his confusion caused by the unorthodox method of attack, and thusly did not notice Shiro no longer stood in his former position.

Those few seconds of distraction were all the hollow needed.

Byakuya had only just looked up when the Vasto Lorde appeared a mere two inches before him, a bare hand buried deep in the man’s gut.  Byakuya choked and gasped, crumpling against Shiro’s arm.

In the next moment, Shiro was sent hurtling into a nearby building, the stone crumbling around him.  He was completely unscathed, but the surprise attack had served its purpose of throwing him off guard.

As he rose from the shattered stone, Kenpachi darted up in his face, whipping his nameless zanpakuto out at Shiro.

Throwing a hand out to the side, he wordlessly called on his own zanpakuto.  Tensa Zangetsu seemed to fling itself into existence from literally nowhere and landed with a slap into Shiro’s outstretched, expectant hand.

Curling his fingers around the familiar pommel tightly, Shiro used his zanpakuto for the first time to clash with Kenpachi’s own.

Beneath his hollow mask, Shiro was grinning maniacally, an insane glint shining brightly in his yellow on black eyes.

Pulling Tensa Zangetsu back, he swung it forward against Kenpachi’s zanpakuto once more with a resounding clang.  The larger man stumbled back half a step before surging forward with fervor.

“You’ve been holding out on me, Berry!  How come ya didn’t fight with me like this sooner?!” He cackled wildly, slamming his sword twice against Shiro’s own.

Shiro’s answer was another terrifying— though not to Kenpachi— hollow roar, followed by his characteristic warbled laughter.  He swung high with his zanpakuto, and anticipating the attack, Kenpachi met the attack head on with his.  However, he didn’t spot the foot Shiro simultaneously slammed against his gut.

The Eleventh division captain went hurtling backward through the air at a rapid pace with a softly uttered _‘oof’_.

Shiro didn’t even give the man time to counter or land as he threw Tensa as if it were a javelin.  It struck deep and true, just beneath Kenpachi’s ribcage, and possibly piercing the man’s stomach.

Kenpachi didn’t so much as wince.  He probably didn’t even feel the pain, high as he was on adrenaline and bloodlust.

The man was already raising his sword to take another swipe at Shiro when he used sonido to appear before him and rip Tensa from his gut.

The sword barely bit the flesh of Shiro’s left shoulder when he used sonido to get away, standing by and stopping to think as he casually twirled Tensa around his finger by the last chain link.

It was also an effective taunt that had Kenpachi grinning as he charged Shiro again.

Shiro released Tensa at the peak of its spin, sending it up in the air, where he caught it with a flourish as he leapt high above Kenpachi.

The titan of a man anticipated the attack with nameless zanpakuto raised above his head.

With a high, demented cackle, Shiro clashed his zanpakuto against Kenpachi’s.  The man managed to equal him in strength here, but Shiro didn’t win nearly every fight he participated in by being some weak, clean-fighting pushover.

He fought dirty, and he fought fast.  As was his instinct.

So naturally, charging up a cero between his horns and blasting it into Kenpachi’s chest was only a given.

The man fell back, but was not deterred by the pain of the not-surprisingly minor burns, or the fact Shiro had won their second clash as well.  This was blatant from the hysterical cackling damn near identical to Shiro’s own.

Shiro didn’t wait for Kenpachi to get back up.  With a quick burst of sonido, Shiro was on him in a millisecond, grabbing Kenpachi’s sword arm and ripping it right from its socket like he’d done to Soifon.

He was growing bored of this fight which he was dominating quite easily, and as a random curiosity struck him, he lifted the ragged, bloodied end of the limb to the mouth of his mask.  He darted his tongue out to take a long swipe, and found he rather liked the taste of shinigami blood.

It was a shame he couldn’t enjoy it at his leisure.

Kenpachi, not even fazed by the loss of his dominant limb (or the traumatic sight that was a hollow-possessed Ichigo nearly attempting to eat said limb), grabbed up his zanpakuto with his other arm and ripped off his eyepatch.

The shinigami’s reiatsu now skyrocketed.  Still high on battle, he threw himself wholeheartedly back into the fray.

Shiro used his teeth to rip off a chunk in the arm before tossing the majority of the limb at its owner.

With a careless backhand, Kenpachi knocked the makeshift projectile off course and out of his way.

“Do I taste good, hollow?!” Kenpachi demanded gleefully with their next clash of swords, honestly curious.

Swallowing the chunk of flesh, Shiro opened his mouth, and for the first time since manifesting in this battle, he spoke (to Kenpachi, of all people), “Yeah, actually,” he commented with just as much manic glee as the other in his characteristic watery, echoing voice, “Y’know, being an inner hollow an’ all, I never get ta eat anyone.  I think I see now why hollows like the taste of shinigami so much.  Yer taste is intoxicatin’.”

Kenpachi laughed, “That’s good,” he said in his own deep and rasping voice, “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself as much as I am!”

Shiro cocked his head to the side, his smirk widening under his mask, unseen, “I knew there was a reason ya’ve been my favorite Taicho.”

Kenpachi shoved Tensa out of the way and took a swing at Shiro, “Is that so?  I’m honored!  Finally, someone besides my own division who can appreciate my charm!!”

With a watery giggle, Shiro danced out of the way of a jab aimed just to the side of his hollow hole.  He shoved the sword aside with the flat of his free hand, swinging his sword rather half-heartedly at Kenpachi’s armless side.

Thee captain was able to dodge the lax attack thusly.

Shiro really didn’t want to kill this one.  He wasn’t lying about liking him.  In fact, Kenpachi was the _only_ captain Shiro liked.

“What would ya say to bein’ friends?” Shiro asked the man as they continued their violent dance.  “Postpone our lil spar until a later date?”

Kenpachi didn’t let up, but did give a thoughtful look as he considered the offer, “Sure, why not?”

Just as Kenpachi said this, Soifon and Byakuya both attacked Shiro from behind— something that neither of the battle-loving psychos had noticed.

Shiro suffered a clip to the shoulder from Soifon, but dodged further damage.  However, he clashed into Byakuya’s Senbonzakura.

It was a greenhorn’s mistake that left him with a stump where his left arm had been moments before.  Without hesitation, he abandoned the limb as he darted away.

The missing limb mattered not.  His high-speed regeneration could easily handle it.

It did so, but not before a grey, worm-like monster burst forth from the open wound and swallowed up Byakuya.

The man managed to release his shikai and use the many petals to shred the giant worm to bits, but by the time he did this and the worm burst into smoke, Shiro’s arm had completely regenerated.

“Nice try,” he grinned viciously, “that’s the last time you’ll managed a cheap shot like that.”

“He doesn’t need to,” was spoken from a short distance away at the same time Shiro felt something small, but deadly sharp pierce just beneath his hierro in his lower back area.

Shiro released a hollow scream, whirling around on the coward who’d dare make such a cheap shot, reaching back and ripping out the odd projectile.  As he brought it around to look at it, he stared with open confusion.

“... Huh?” Shiro was vaguely aware of a slowly growing fuzziness within his mind that was actively making it more difficult to process what was currently happening.  He continued to stare at what appeared to be a dart with some sort of cartridge built in.  Whatever it had held was now gone.

“That tranquilizer was originally designed to ideally take out anything Kenpachi’s reiatsu level or higher efficiently and quickly.  In a few minutes, it will be lights out for you, my specimen.  Feeling a little drowsy, are we?”

Kurotsuchi Mayuri.

Shiro had been wondering where the slimy bastard had wandered off to.  Sadly, out of sight had indeed meant out of mind, and that was a mistake he was now paying the price for.

“Damn you!” Shiro hissed, adding a feral, menacing growl for good measure.

It must have been incredible strong for regeneration not to be able to neutralize it.

This was not over.  Shiro wasn’t going down without a fight, dammit!

Another sonido he somehow mustered the energy to pull off, but barely, saw to it that he was on Kurotsuchi in an instant.  He shoved Tensa Zangetsu into the mad scientist’s gut, punching a hole clear through his back, twisting the sword in the wound for maximum pain.

Kurotsuchi screeched briefly, but made no other audible sound.

“I’ll eat ya!!” Shiro growled, slamming the Eleventh division captain’s body to the ground.

Like a vicious beast, he tore away at the man’s body.  Ripped an arm off.  Dug one hand into his gut.  Used his teeth to rip a good-sized chunk from Kurotsuchi’s shoulder in rapid succession.

To his credit, the Eleventh division captain only screeched one more time through all this.  Then again, it had all happened in less than five seconds.

Another second went by and Shiro had ripped off the other arm and wrenched Tensa Zangetsu out of the wound he’d left it lodged into.

With another savage motion of jaws, his jagged teeth had ripped yet anothe rstrip of flesh fromt he same shoulder he’d initially bitten into.  He dragged his teeth cruelly down the captain’s chest, shredding the clothes covering it as he did so.  He ripped into the exposed skin of Kurotsuchi’s exposed sides with clawed, blood-covered fingers.

Kurotsuchi squealed like a pig as Shiro chomped a chunk right out of his pectoral.

It seemed the others had finally, inevitably regained their wits about them and realized what was going on.  Shiro was abruptly yanked off the somehow still living resident mad scientist by two people.

He snarled, jabbing an elbow into one to throw him off, but the same treatment didn’t work for the second mystery man.

“Sorry, kid, can’t let ya do that,” came a familiar rasp Shiro recognized as Kenpachi through the haze of intense bloodlust.

Shiro continued to struggle, but as his strength and consciousness were quickly waning, he found Kenpachi was now strong enough to restrain him.

“Let me at ‘im!” Shiro screeched, struggling violently against the strong chest he was held against by a single arm stronger than a steel beam.  He frantically reached with both hands toward where the mad scientist lay, but was nowhere near close enough.  “I’ll devour the fucker alive!!”

“I think you’ve done a pretty good job of that already,” Kenpachi replied calmly, “there’s nothing you can do now.”

Shiro gave a final enraged, echoing howl before slumping back against Kenpachi with a resigned sigh.  He knew Kenpachi was right.  If he continued to fight the tranquilizer, he had a minute left at best.

“Hey, if you survive this, I’ll take ya up on that offer,” Kenpachi muttered out of nowhere to the slowly passing out hollow.

“Uh?” Shiro groaned unsurely.  He turned his wavering gaze on the tall captain.  “Which ‘ne was tha’?”

“... The… first one…”

Shiro worked through his addled mind and muddled thoughts until he realized which offer the crazy, battle loving captain referred to.

“... Ya wanna be friends? Wit’ me?” He mumbled slowly, words beginning to slur with drowsiness, “But I’m a hollow… I tried to kill ya… an’ eat one o’ yer… cap’ns…”

“So?  I can appreciate a guy who enjoys a good fight, and even though you’re a hollow.  You’re reasonable enough.”

“Oh.”

This coming from the captain who was believed to be the only shinigami one could never reason with.

He would have added more but it seemed the tranquilizer had finally taken hold.  Whatever else they may have said was lost as Shiro’s world turned black.


	2. The Point of No Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The real horror and gore starts from this point henceforth.
> 
> Also from this point onward, close to if not all of the story will be told from Shiro's perspective.

When Shiro was next conscious, it was from within Ichigo’s mind.  The substitute himself was still unconscious and Shiro had no way of taking the reigns of control over the body.

He could only assume those damned shinigami had found a way to suppress him.  He cursed openly as he glared at the deceitfully sunny sky filled with fluffy cumulus clouds.

“That fuckin’ bastard!” Shiro cried in his distress.  This had to be that fucker, Kurotsuchi’s doing.

He hardly had time to think anymore along this line of thought, because he was suddenly thrown to the floor by a strange tremor.

Shiro’s eyes widened to the size of saucers as another violent tremor went through Ichigo’s inner world.

“What the hell?!” He screeched, watching as the building next to the one he was on crumbled, the chunks of blue building falling in an endless loop.

THen his building gave a terrifying jolt, and he only just managed to leap to the next building over.  He couldn’t help it when he began to hyperventilate, completely devastated and uprooted as he witnessed the literal destruction of Ichigo’s mind.

This was _wrong_.  This was very wrong!!

“W-what’s going on?” Shiro asked to the thin air, panicking even more as he had to leap yet again to another building.  He continued to flee until he found Zangetsu calmly standing on his usual perch at the top of his favorite (and only) pole.

Far ahead of the destruction quickly approaching, Zangetsu’s building had thus far remained untouched.

“Old man!” Shiro yelled as he landed in an ungraceful heap before the other resident of Ichigo’s mind. “Man am I glad to see ya!  D’ya know what’s goin’ on?  WHy is King’s inner world fallin’ ta ruin?”

Zangetsu’s level gaze, which had been trained unwaveringly on the pale hollow, rose skyward in a somber expression.  The man sighed.

“They are trying to rip you away.  They haven’t succeeded thus far, because you’re so deeply ingrained into Ichigo’s soul.  To extract you, they must first tear his soul apart.  I fear what may become of this world, should they succeed.”

It was left unsaid the shinigami would inevitably achieve just that.

“What’ll become of King?  Of me?” Shiro asked fearfully, already uncertain he wanted to hear the answer to the questions he’d asked the moment he uttered them.

“You?  You may survive the extraction itself,” Zangetsu immediately replied, uncharacteristically answering the questions out of order.  He hesitated before he answered the other question, “Ichigo also will most likely survive… but his sanity will not,” he glanced back at Shiro briefly before glancing skyward once more, “I suppose I myself will be locked inside here.  Perhaps forever.”

It was spoken so casually that if he hadn’t heard Zangetsu himself concede he was scared, Shiro wouldn’t have known he too feared this outcome.

The inner hollow frowned— an expression that looked entirely out of place on him.

“This ain’t happenin’,” Shiro said, scowling at the sky, “not if I have a say in it.”

“I fear there is nothing you or I can do,” Zangetsu said sorrowfully, “they are beyond reasoning with.  All we can do is wait and hope for the best.”

The hollow turned his scowl on the old man and Shiro’s longtime companion, “I’m sorry, but what the actual _fuck_?!  So yer sayin’ we just do nothin’?!  THis is out of character even by yer standards!”

Zangetsu didn’t reply.  At least not verbally.  Instead, he silently locked gazes with Shiro.

Shiro gasped at what he found in the man’s gaze.  Though ‘old man’ was more a running gag than anything else, at this precise moment he truly looked like he fit the nickname perfectly.

Tired lines and circles framed his eyes as the corners of his lips turned downward in a grim frown.  Behind his sunglasses, those dark eyes held so much pain and sorrow.

As he stared into his companion’s eyes, Zangetsu didn’t bother speaking.  He didn’t need to.  Shiro could see it plainly as day, written all over his face.

It was the face of a man who had tried, valiantly so, given all he had, and still failed.  It was the face of a man who’d given up hope, because that hope had been mercilessly crushed by another.

Shiro’s heart clenched at the sight, “Old man… I’m sorry…”

“No need for apologies.  I understand your fear.  I feel it too.”

He opened his mouth to speak, though he knew not what he might have said— words of reassurance?  A false promise that all would be okay?  A lie that he’d save them in the end?  That a miracle would occur?

Whatever the case, he never got the chance to say any of those things.

A sharp pain from within had Shiro reeling.  It was like something was wrapped around his heart and tugging violently.

Falling to his knees, he attempted to resist.  It worked for all but ten seconds.

Zangetsu had come to his side to ask what was wrong when Shiro vanished from Ichigo’s inner world.

The last Shiro saw of Zangetsu was frantic horror dashed with concern on his face— a sight the white hollow knew would be etched into his mind and haunt him for years to come.  Perhaps even eternity.

Outside Ichigo’s inner world, Kurotsuchi was hard at work extracting Shiro from Ichigo’s soul.  HIs face should have split apart with the ridiculous, sadistic grin he was wearing when he saw something pale start to emerge with a sort of reversed melting process.

Shiro screamed in unadulterated pain as he was ripped from Ichigo agonizingly slow.  If not for Zangetsu’s claim he’d survive, he’d have thought his heart would give out from the strain and he’d die long before the process was complete.

He screamed until his throat was raw, and then screamed some more.

When the torturous process was finally through, Shiro glanced around his surroundings with wary distrust.

The unshakable feeling of pure wrongness had not left him yet.  Instead, it had only grown stronger still.

His eyes continued to dart around, never staying in one spot longer than a second, and then his sight landed on one Kurotsuchi Mayuri.

“What did ya do?!” He demanded in a high, panicked voice.  “Ya fuckin’ idiot!  D’ya realize just what ya’ve done?!  Quick, put me back! Now!!”

Even as he spoke, he could already feel yet more wrongness creeping up on him as suffocating, dark reiatsu began to leak out behind him.  Palpable in the air, he could practically taste the oddly rank odor on his tongue.

There wasn’t much time. He had to return.  He had to stop this disaster before it started.  Before it was too late.

“Now why would I go and do a thing like that?” Kurotsuchi asked in his annoyingly condescending tone of voice.  “I’ve just gotten you where I want you, hollow.”

Shiro grit his teeth, “Did I stutter, ya bastard?!  Do ya not understand at all what I am?  I’m his main source of power!  I’m not just his hollow— I’m his _zanpakuto_ , dammit!  I’m half his soul and ya just destroyed his mind ta tear me away from him!  He’ll turn into a mindless beast without me at this rate!”

“How curious, a hollow talking of mindless beasts,” Kurotsuchi commented idly, unaffected by Shiro’s screaming at him.

“Who cares?!  We don’t have any time!  Put me back,” Shiro cried desperately, reduced to a whimpering mess as Ichigo’s pain resonated with his own.  He clutched at his chest.  He was breathing too fast as he clawed at the flesh over his heart, as if that might alleviate the throbbing, stabbing white-hot pain, “I’m beggin’ ya… _please_!”

“Nonsense.  I’ve got this all under control,” Kurotsuchi replied crisply, “besides, even if Kurosaki hypothetically _were_ to go mad, what could he possibly do missing so much of his power?  If you _are_ his zanpakuto, as you so readily _claim_ to be, then he should be missing half his power without you.  Subduing him would be mere child’s play.”

Shiro gasped as he keeled over, on the floor on trembling hands and knees.

He seethed as he glared at the source of his pain, the mad scientist, “That’s just it!  Yer forgettin’ soemthing; Ichigo’s not normal!  Never has been!  He’s not missin’ half his power with me out here— he’s missin’ a fourth of it!”

“A fourth, you say?  That would make him more powerful than the Soutaicho himself.  Fascinating.”

“Fascinating, my ass!  If ya don’t do something, everyone in this division is gonna die!” He screeched, wincing as a stronger throb came from his bond with his king.  “An’ it won’t just stop there!

“Without his ability ta reason, he won’t see friend or foe, ;and he’s strong enough no one will stand a chance if he comes after them!  D’ya want that kinda blood on yer hands, ya psychotic fucker?!  Why aren’t ya stoppin’ this yet?!”

“Was that a threat, hollow?  Quit your infernal whining—” Kurotsuchi was cut off by a sudden crescendo in the overpowering reiatsu filling the room.

It was now so powerful and intense that the walls were creaking from the pressure and the roof threatened to cave in on them.  If Shiro hadn’t been on his hands and knees already, he wouldn’t dropped to them now.

Instead, he was flattened entirely against the floor, his body flush against the clinical cold of the stone laboratory floor.

In hindsight, that may have been the only othing that saved him.

Kurotsuchi, who had somehow remained standing with willpower alone (a bad decision on his part), watched on as Ichigo’s upper body raised itself from the metal table as if he wasn’t being held down by sekkiseki restraints a moment ago.

At some point, all his facial features had melted away entirely.

What they left now couldn’t even be considered a face.

Where his face should have been was featureless, unblemished smooth skin.  It was pale as Shiro’s own face, and ten times as horrifying to look at.

This was not the only change his anatomical structure had undergone.

Where rounded, harmless human fingers had once been, there were now long, gnarled fingers that ended in wickedly sharp claws.  The hands were only vaguely humanoid in appearance.  His skin was growing paler still until it all matched his ‘face’.  The tips of his fingers grew a deep red, nearly black that faded into the near white of the rest of his body toward the knuckles.

His feet, now bare, took on a near identical transformation to his hands.

The not-Ichigo creature lifted its hand to observe it idly.  Bent it back and tense the fingers, causing a series of small yet loud cracks that sent a chill down Shiro’s spine.

The only trait recognizable as the original Ichigo’s was now a head of messy, bright orange hair.

Seemingly satisfied with the changes in its hand, the creature ‘looked’ toward Kurotsuchi.  It cocked its head to the side, a resounding gravely growl sounding from somewhere within the creature’s throat.

The sound struck Shiro as vaguely curious, as if the creature wasn’t sure what to make of the Eleventh division captain.

The hollow highly doubted this would last long, as he was certain the creature was merely sizing Kurotsuchi up.  Probably trying to decide whether the man was worth devouring.  If the creature even _could_ eat.  

It didn’t have a mouth, but the posture and general feel of the creature was predatory and unmistakably _hungry_.

Shiro was only glad the creature hadn’t appeared to notice him yet.  It was terrifying just watching from the sidelines the way the thing ‘eyed’ Kurotsuchi.  He never wanted that unsettling ‘stare’ set on himself.

It was no surprise the captain was frozen to the spot.  He’d clearly realized he’d bitten off way more than he could chew.

Shiro had warned him.  He’d brought this on himself.

If only he’d not subsequently brought ruin crashing down on all their heads.

There was nothing to realistically rival Ichigo when his ability to reason no longer stopped him from hurting others.  Let alone its absence had removed the blockage that had kept him from reaching his true potential.

There was nothing but tension-filled silence for agonizing minutes as the time stretched by.  THe tension rose as Shiro and Kurotsuchi anticipated whatever may come.

The mad scientist was still certain he’d come out of this alive, but Shiro’s outlook on things was much more grim.  He knew any of them would be immensely lucky to escape by the skin of their teeth.

He feared none of them had that luck.

Shiro flinched as he saw that featureless face tear, and heard the accompanying ripping sounds of the parting flesh, and then there was a grotesquely fanged mouth grinning from ear to ear on that face.  Strings of flesh and skin held the outermost corners together, hanging by a thread so to speak.  The inside of the mouth was inky black, and had a long, serpentine tongue of the same shade.

The feral beast hunched forward with a low growl that rose in a loud roar at the end.  Shiro pressed himself as closely to the floor as he could go, praying furiously that the beast would not notice him.

 _Please, please!  Please!  Don’t let him notice me!  Just kill Kurotsuchi and leave, oh god,_ **_please_ ** _!!_

A beat of silence and then it happened.

In a white blur that was not shunpo, but pure physical speed, the creature was at Kurotsuchi’s side in an instant.

The creature made odd huffing sounds, maybe scenting the air with that odd tongue it had.

Kurotsuchi, still unmoving— Shiro mused that it was possible he was literally incapable of moving— watched the beast with wide eyes.

Even he could understand the imminent danger towering before him.  This awareness was far, far too late, however.

Knowing wasn’t enough.

The beast cocked its head to the side, drawing uncomfortably near to the captain until its face was pressed against the side of Kurotsuchi’s throat.  More of those wet huffing sounds as warm, humid breath wafted over the chilled, sweating flesh of the man’s neck.

The captain felt a rough, slimy thing press against his throat— the beast’s tongue— swiping a slow line up it.

Kurotsuchi’s body was rigid, unmoving.  Though he screamed internally for his limbs to work.

 _Move_.

_Run!_

_Get away!  Escape!!_

_This thing is not natural.  It will kill me, it will devour me and leave little more than skin and bone in its wake!_

There was nothing Kurotsuchi could do as with a growing snarl, the creature’s jaws opened impossibly wide and ripped out his jugular, revealing the spine.

The creature gulped loudly, doing nothing as Kurotsuchi’s corpse fell to the floor.

The body twitched and gurgled, convulsing sporadically with the few seconds of life it had left.  Then it grew still as death took hold.

Kurotsuchi Mayuri lay dead on his own laboratory floor.

**He would not be the last…**


	3. Hollows Never Looked So Human Before

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is told from the perspective of the captains for... reasons...

By the time the other twelve captains and Yamamoto himself had arrived on scene in the Twelfth division, most of the division’s members had been slaughtered.  Their bodies lay in scattered disarray, cooling with time wherever they were left laying.

The beast Ichigo had become had all but vanished from Seireitei.  It had somehow found a way to leave to the human world.

If anyone had known the terrifying force Ichigo had become, they would have been concerned about the fact a senseless, bloodthirsty monster had been unleashed to wreak havoc on countless citizens of Karakura.

However, the only living witness to his instant descent into madness and following transformation didn’t yet know the creature had absconded.

The captains and head captain followed the carnage of bodies through the halls of the Twelfth division.

Some corpses looked awful in their own right— bloody and torn.  Worse still were the ones no longer recognizable as human anymore.  If it weren’t for the countless other human bodies, they wouldn’t have identified them as human at all.

No one failed to notice the bodies with missing limbs or heads or heads, or sometimes both— parts which were nowhere to be seen.

Every last one of them had no desire to know where said body parts had disappeared to.  Though they all had their suspicions, which were probably spot-on.

More than one captain was feeling ill or entirely nauseous.  A now healed Toshiro even lost his lunch as they found some of the no longer human-looking bodies.

“What could have caused this?” Fourth division captain Unohana asked softly, not expecting anyone to have a good answer.

“Probably that damn inner hollow of Ichigo’s,” was Soifon’s immediate response.  She sounded so sure of herself, as if she believed her statement to be true and indisputable.

“This doesn’t feel like his hollow’s reiatsu…” Byakuya replied coolly, so soft the statement almost went unheard.  Of course, he would know what the hollow’s reiatsu felt like, having personally fought the creature during the invasion of Seireitei when Ichigo was a mere ryoka.

“Yeah, well it could have changed easily,” she snapped.

“Reiatsu doesn’t do that… or at least, it’s not supposed to,” Toshiro countered.

Soifon couldn’t think of a good argument to this.  She knew she was beat, and so she simply scowled at the others.  Whose side were they on, anyway?  Then again, she may have just been feeling bitter in account of the fact the little bastard had ripped off her arm (which had been a bitch to reattach).

“The guy’s violent, but this doesn’t seem his style,” Kenpachi strangely enough commented, “I wouldn’t put killing past that guy, but this is too much.  I don’t believe he did this.”

Conversation halted to a stop as they all arrived at their destination.

The laboratory Kurotsuchi had removed Ichigo’s inner hollow in.

Just outside the room, Nemu’s body was slumped against the wall on the floor.

A gaping hole was carved into her chest.  The heart noticeably missing.  The rib cage, right through the sternum, was shattered.  Blood had soaked through a good deal of the clothing of her chest.

Her glazed, unseeing eyes stared hauntingly back at them.  They were even less emotional than they’d ever been before, if that was possible.

The sight quickly engraved itself into every captain’s mind.

As such, they rushed to get inside the lab and away from the sight of what remained of Kurotsuchi’s assistant.

The first thing they noticed was the table at the center of the room.  The sekkiseki restraints were completely shattered.  That alone would have been enough to give pause and unsettle every last person present.

Such a feat was impossible.  A perversion of nature.

The next thing they all took notice of was Kurotsuchi’s cold, dead— truly dead— corpse on the floor of his own lab.  The entire front of his throat was completely missing.  Nothing more than ragged, bloodied skin and the bone of his spine remained of it.

Everyone stared openly, gaping, not knowing what to make of the scene.

There was a faint sort of whimpering sob coming from somewhere within the lab.  It had been there since before they’d arrived, but the captains had been so absorbed into the sight of the ghoulish slaughter that they hadn’t heard a single sound.

Now their ears finally caught the muted sobbing and sniffling.

They all glanced around wildly, searching for the source.  It was difficult to find with all the blood and gore before their eyes, which kept drawing their focus toward it.

Kenpachi was the first to find it.

Curled in fetal in a corner was the pale white inner hollow of one Kurosaki Ichigo.

The bleached counterpart was curled in on himself so far he seemed so much smaller than he actually was.

It was no small wonder no one had seen him on first glance.

A spattering of a fine red mist covered the upper portion of his body.  It was even in his hair.  A few droplets of the blood dotted the backs of his hands where the captains could see trembling fingers clutching tightly at his knees and clawing into the cloth of his shihakusho.

Most of his head was buried behind his knees, hiding from sight his face and whatever expression it may have worn.

The captains looked on as they witness a sight no shinigami ever thought they’d be witness to— ever.  A trembling, sobbing hollow.

For that truly was what Shiro was doing.

He was a small, sobbing mess.  He was so horrified, so very traumatized he wouldn’t have cared if someone was there to see it.  Which he didn’t know was in fact the case.  He wasn’t aware of anything around him.

As a firm, strong hand settled on a shaking, white-clothed shoulder, Shiro flinched so violently the back of his head slammed into the corner behind him with a  _ bang _ .  He screamed in terror, not even realizing he’d just struck his head, eyes unseeing for a few seconds.

When the clouded look slowly faded, his eyes darted frantically around the room.  Even the shinigami still across the room could hear the hollow’s audible hyperventilating.

“Hey,” Kenpachi said, uncharacteristically softly, “calm down, man.  You’re safe here,” he reassured Shiro, putting his other hand on Shiro’s other shoulder.

Shiro’s breathing started to even out, though not all the way.  His eyes continued to dart around, as if expecting some form of ambush.  What no one knew was that was exactly what he was expecting.

Even not knowing this, the behavior still managed to put some of the captains on edge.

“Can you tell me what happened?” Kenpachi asked the question no one else dared ask, paying the others no mind.

Shiro’s eyes eventually stopped moving as they landed on the Eleventh division captain.  For several minutes, there was no sound as Shiro didn’t speak, and all others waited for his answer with bated breath.

Kenpachi began to fear his new friends was too traumatized to speak.

Then, in a soft rasp from a throat raw from screaming, Shiro asked, “I—… is he… gone?”

Kenpachi didn’t speak at first, merely watching the hollow’s face with calculating sharp eyes.  He’d only just noticed the tiny tears leaking from the corners of the hollow’s eyes.

Kenpachi’s eyes then narrowed, “Do you mean Kurosaki?”

Shiro nodded numbly, watching the man with his own tired eyes.  His posture— still reminiscent of the fetal position he’d been in, as he still hugged his knees to his chest— was rigid.  Tense.

“Sources say he escaped to the human world,” Kenpachi informed the trembling hollow.

Shiro choked on the air he’d been in the middle of inhaling, mouth falling agape, “... No!  No, fuck!  Oh god— he— he…!”

And like that, the hollow was up in hysterics once more.  He hyperventilated at first, tears falling freely now.

Then came the high, maniacal laughter the hollow was known for.  Given the situation, it made Shiro look significantly more demented than usual.

“We’re all gonna die!” Shiro cried through his insane laughter.  “Splattered!  He’ll kill us all!  We may as well put our head ‘tween our knees an’ kiss our asses goodbye while we got the chance!”

He fell into more hysterical laughter, hunching over and giggling under his breath after a while.

Then he grew quiet.  Deathly quiet.  His face was buried against his knees again.  Kenpachi couldn’t hear him breathing, even with the close proximity.

Pale white hands then shot up, causing Kenpachi to jump back, expecting an attack that never came.

Those black-nailed fingers buried in white, blood speckled hair as the hollow clutched at his own head.  With a loud, drawn out gasp, Shiro screamed.

And screamed…

… and screamed…

Most haunting of all was not the suddenness of it, or the scream itself.  It wasn’t even how loud it was— though it was undoubtedly very loud.

Oh no.  Most haunting of all was that this was no hollow’s scream.

This was a purely human sound.  A frantic, terror-filled scream that would have melted and pierced the hardest, coldest of hearts.

The hollow was clearly traumatized by whatever he’d seen.  That simple fact was indisputable.

Most of the captains felt too awkward to do little more than stare dumbly.

There was one thing that was on every single present shinigami’s mind.

Hollows had never looked so human before.


	4. In Regards to Circumstance and Exceptions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kenpachi makes his first friend and learns how to show affection. Sort of.

It took a grand total of three hours to get Ichigo’s now independent hollow to calm down enough to speak again.  By then, most shinigami present believed they had steeled themselves for whatever tragic story Shiro would confide.

Little did they know…

“Shiro, was it?” Kenpachi asked gruffly.

Shiro nodded, a very small inclination of his head.

It was just the two of them in the hospital room inside the Fourth division.  The hollow had thrown an absolute fit about disclosing what happened with Ichigo in front of anyone other than Kenpachi.  Not so much because he didn’t want them to know, but rather he simply didn’t like anyone but the hardened, battle-loving captain.

Not only were they similar minded to each other, Kenpachi was the only one to be so much as marginally courteous to him, despite his being a hollow.  Thusly, it was a given he had taken a liking to Kenpachi, and that the large man was the only shinigami Shiro currently trusted.

Kenpachi sighed, running his fingers through his hair— which was down for once in what felt like ages.  He fixed Shiro with a look the hollow could not decipher, “Do you wanna talk about what happened now?”

It was so awkwardly phrased and spoken, and the man honestly looked uncomfortable— maybe ‘constipated’ was a good adjective to describe his expression— he was obviously out of his element.  Shiro decided to cut the man a little slack.

“Okay, I’ll tell ya…”

And so he did.

Over the next so many minutes, he divulged to Kenpachi the story.  He spoke to Kenpachi of how he recalled being removed from Ichigo’s inner world— how the substitute shinigami’s mind had quite literally crumbled— and how Kurotsuchi had reacted when Shiro had explained in layman's terms just what would happen if he was not returned to Ichigo.

He told Kenpachi about the transformation which had ensued after, and the grotesque form the creature formerly known as Kurosaki Ichigo had taken.

Though he did leave out a considerable amount of detail regarding the slaughter that had taken place at the creature’s hand, but Kenpachi couldn’t fault the hollow for that.  Even he had to admit that kind of carnage was a little over the top.  He could fill in the gaps himself anyway.

He’d seen how proud and violent Shiro himself was capable of being.  Whatever had made this proud and fearsome creature experience fear himself to the point of trembling, sobbing, and babbling incessantly… had to be quite terrifying to personally witness.

Idly, Kenpachi wondered whether this creature would be able to put the fear of God into himself as well.  He thought it a strange concept.

Perhaps one he shouldn’t bother testing anytime soon, however.

First thing was first; he had to help Ichigo’s not-so-inner hollow return to his former self.  The twitchy, easily startled mess Shiro had become paled in comparison to what he was meant to be, and the Eleventh division captain certainly couldn’t have that.

“So Kurosaki’s become a monster, ah?” Kenpachi asked after a few moment’s silence following Shiro’s long-winded explanation.

Shiro merely nodded.  He was getting tired from all the stress, and was losing the energy to talk much more.

Kenpachi frowned, “... I see.  Is that why you were so bothered by him getting out into the human world?”

Shiro nodded again with a groan, his shoulders sagging with the exaggerated motion, “Yeah… I can only imagine what that… that  _ thing  _ is doin’ out there right now…”

Kenpachi set a consoling hand on his shoulder, “We’ll stop him.”

The hollow didn’t speak.  Merely stared up at the taller man with a sort of desperate, broken look in his eyes.

There was only tense silence afterward until Kenpachi quietly stood from his chair and left the room.

No one else came into his hospital room for the rest of that day.

For many subsequent days, Shiro continued to hole himself up in the hospital room. He technically no longer required medical assistance, and thusly no hospital stay was necessary.  Oddly enough, it was on Unohana’s authority that he remained in the Fourth.

Even the secretly cold and ruthless Fourth division captain hadn’t the heart to kick the hollow out.  He was simply that pitiful.

Besides, even though he was no longer physically ailed, it was amply clear his psychological health was a different story entirely.

The young man wouldn’t even let anyone but Kenpachi and Unohana enter his room.  Even with just them, he was visibly jumpy.  The slightest of creaks or moans could set him off.

One had to be careful not to sneak up behind him, because he’d viciously attack like a cornered wild animal before he came back to his senses and realized they meant him no harm.

After a few repeated incidents which resulted in no small amount of wounds— to both Kenpachi and Unohana, not to mention both of them got their fair share of broken bones— they began making noticeable efforts in earnest to be as noisy as they could when out of his direct line of sight, and kept all their movements deliberately slow.

When Shiro realized what they were doing for his benefit, there had been a minor spat.  It luckily didn’t come to blows, and ultimately ended with the hollow relinquishing and begrudgingly admitting the precautions were necessary and appreciated.

However, it seemed Kenpachi and Unohana’s patient kindness was slowly but surely coming to an end.  They were becoming short with him the longer he insisted on secluding himself.

Finally, the day when Kenpachi snapped and stormed into Shiro’s hospital room arrived.

Before Shiro could so much as say hello or ask what had the man in such a tizzy, the Eleventh division captain had stomped right over to Shiro’s gurney.

He fisted a hand in the white Ichigo look-alike’s hospital gown collar.  Yanked him up from the gurney.  Hit him with a right hook so hard and fast Shiro didn’t have time to prepare for the blow.

Though his hierro absorbed most of the impact, it had still hurt like a bitch.

Glaring sideways at the black-haired shinigami (whose hair was still remarkably down instead of in it’s usual distracting spiked and bell-adorned fashion), Shiro spat a small amount of blood on the floor.  He rubbed at his already swelling cheek with the back of his hand.

“Tha’ hurt, ya bastard,” he snapped in annoyance, “mind explainin’ ta me what that was for anyhow?”

“For being a little bitch,” Kenpachi stated plainly, staring down his nose at the significantly younger man, “you’ve been acting like a half-drowned kitten for too long.

“Unohana and I tried to be patient— I’m sure seeing your other half turn into a monster like that was traumatic, but this is just ridiculous!” The man’s hands were tight fists at his side.  “You’re lucky I talked Unohana into letting me try to knock some sense into ya before  _ she  _ took a crack at it, ‘cause it woulda hurt a hell of a lot worse if it was her that came in here.”

Shiro was mildly surprised the man knew as big a word as ‘traumatic’, but didn’t voice that opinion.  He didn’t want to test his luck today.  Without Ichigo, Shiro wasn’t at his best (in more ways than one).

He was also shocked by the man’s concern to the point of coming in, punching him, and ranting like he had.  He mulled Kenpachi’s words over long and hard, then eventually muttered, “Yer right.”

“‘Course I am,” the man growled, “glad ya finally see that.  Now get your ass outta that bed.  We got stuff to get done.”

For a while, Kenpachi and Shiro passed the time by sparring in the Eleventh division barracks.  It was good; it kept his skills and wit sharp, and more importantly it kept his mind off… other things.

Despite his separation from the shinigami host he played Horse to, he was still powerfully formidable, a force to be reckoned with, and not to be underestimated.

Many (mostly unseated) shinigami of the Eleventh had made that mistake.  They now bore the physical proof of their careless err.  As well as proof of Kenpachi’s disappointment in them in them in the form of sizeable lumps where the violent captain had given them a good hard thump over the cranium.

“Dunderheads,” he muttered as he’d conked the last person.

Finally, seated members had decided to take him on and test their metal against his.  Shiro was beating them all down into the ground with relative ease up until he got to the upper ranks.

Madarame Ikkaku, Third Seat, gave Shiro quite the challenge.

Even knowing practically every trick the man had up his sleeve, Shiro was still experiencing a little difficulty.  For the first time, the hollow was sweating from the energy he was expending.

His heart raced and his spirit soared with the heat of battle and excitement of a challenge.

In the end, the Third Seat too was felled by Shiro’s blade.

He smirked up at Shiro as he collapsed on the tatami mat, “Good spar.  I haven’t enjoyed a battle quite like that since I fought Ichigo during the Ryoka invasion.”

Shiro, who was extending a hand to help the Third seat stand, halted in his motions.  They both stood frozen at Ikkaku’s own words.

For hours, his mind had been pleasantly devoid of any thoughts in regards to the orange-haired menace.  Pleasantly blank in general, really.  Battle could do that to one such as him— sometimes, his mind would just go on autopilot and he’d enjoy the thrill of the fight.

Now his unpleasant thoughts were returned with full force to the forefront of his mind.

“Oh,” Shiro said dumbly.

“Dumbass,” Kenpachi scowled, slapping the shaven-headed spear wielder upside the head.

“My sincerest apologies!!” Ikkaku bowed as deeply as his body would allow— surprisingly far, considering his muscle mass— before fleeing the room in shame.

Ichigo’s rampage and disappearance had left a dull ache in his chest.  He’d never experienced the ravenous hunger of a hollow, but he entertained the thought that perhaps this was what it would feel like.

Like a part of his soul had literally been ripped away.

Which, morbidly ironic, was precisely what had happened.

Shiro was drowning himself in self-pity.  And so he too experienced Kenpachi’s conk over the head.

“Ow!  Stop that!” Shiro shouted.

Kenpachi shouted right back at him, “That’s my line!  We’ve been over this; drowning yourself in pity like this helps no one.  Get over it and  _ do  _ something about it already!”

Shiro grew silent.  He did not admit aloud that Kenpachi was right, but the thought was nonetheless heard loud and clear.

He was startled out of his reverie when a Hell Butterfly flew in.

“Zaraki Kenpachi and Ichigo’s hollow, report to Yamamoto-Soutaicho for a meeting, immediately.  All able captains are required to attend.”

Kenpachi swore to himself as the butterfly flew off.  He then turned to the alabaster hollow himself, “Ya heard the man.  Best not keep the old coot waiting.”

“We are here to discuss the fate of Ichigo’s hollow, self-declared ‘Shiro’.”  Yamamoto announced once the doors firmly closed and everyone was lined up.

In between the two lines, directly in the center of it all was Shiro.  He wore a pensive expression as he listened on.

He didn’t bother trying to speak.  He wasn’t stupid; he knew this was his impromptu trial.  This was the moment the Gotei 13 decided whether they’d band together and eradicate Shiro, or mercifully allow him to live for at least another day.  For those were the only two outcomes foreseeable in Shiro’s eyes.

He held no delusions about how Seireitei dealt with hollows— sentient and non-hostile or otherwise.

He was most likely looking at an instant death sentence.  It was only natural that the tension within him was high as his fingers twitched at his sides, buried in the folds of his hakama to hide them and keep any of the shinigami from seeing the motion and perceiving it as a threat.

Possible escape routes were racing through the forefront of his mind.  He’d have to keep physical confrontation to a minimum, or he’d risk getting splattered.  He was one of the fastest, if not  _ the  _ fastest person there.

If he decided to turn tail and run for all he was worth, he had good reason to believe he’d have enough endurance to get him to the human world before any of them had any hope of capturing him.

How long he’d be able to dodge the shinigami after he managed that remained to be seen.  Maybe if he was lucky, he’d be recuperated enough and the Gotei would underestimate his combat capabilities.

Of course, that was a shot in the dark, and Shiro knew it.

Then Yamamoto was speaking.

“Hollow of Ichigo, Shiro,” the old man spoke with no inflection to indicate what he thought or how he felt, “you are here under the grave crime of being a hollow—”  _ —oh great, being born was a crime now _ — “—as well as the assault of four respected captains of the Gotei 13.  Soifon of the Second division, Kuchiki Byakuya of the Sixth, Zaraki Kenpachi of the Eleventh, and Hitsugaya Toshiro of the Tenth.  How do you plead?”

Shiro’s eyes had followed down the line to settle on each captain as their names were spoken.  All captains— save for Kenpachi who looked indifferent— looked as if they were wanting his blood spilled for his grievous ‘crimes’.

Shiro put on a plastic smirk that was about as fake as the false bravado he was presenting, “Guilty as charged, yer  _ Honor _ .  Can hardly deny my species, can’t I?”

“I… see,” the captain commander looked marginally startled by his reply (perhaps expecting him to deny it all for some unimaginable reason), “and what of your assault charges?”

“Guilty as well,” he replied, then without missing a beat he added, “but I believe I was well within my rights, yer  _ Honor _ .”

No one had delusions that Shiro was using the title in a show of deference.  The inflection he used was distinctly snarky, and everyone present could tell he was mocking the old commander.  A few captains took a couple wrathful steps forward, as if to attack him.

Particularly Soifon, the Kuchiki captain, and a giant of a man who wore a squarish bucket for a helmet— Shiro couldn’t remember his name.

Yamamoto held up a halting hand, “We will hear his reasoning.  Remember that he is innocent until proven guilty.”

“But he’s a hollow!” Soifon cried.  “How the hell is a hollow  _ innocent _ ?!”

“We didn’t give him the benefit of the doubt before,” Shinsui added cautiously, but surprisingly didn’t necessarily sound like he was trying to back her up.  Merely stating a fact.

If Shiro was mistaken, he’d believe the pink-kimono clad man was trying defend him, the hollow.

“Enough,” Yamamoto cut Soifon off before she could begin arguing once more, “what have you to say then… Shiro… to defend your actions.”

Shiro snickered briefly at the mildly pained look Yamamoto wore as he spoke the hollow’s self-given name.  His expression sobered, “Yer Honor,” there was no mocking sarcasm in his tone this time, “I got a lot to say now. I’d ‘preciate if ya’ll let me speak ‘til I’m through. If I may.  Then ya can do with me as you will.”

It was left unsaid that they’d have to catch him first, but Shiro got the impression old man Yama just  _ knew _ .

“Very well,” he told the hollow, “we will grant you this request, despite your status as hollow.  Proceed.”

Shiro’s expression flickered with barely suppressed shock, but he quickly quashed the feeling and began his speech, “Ya see, I understand I’m what ya’ll consider a hollow.  I ain’t gonna even try denyin’ that.

“Thing is, I didn’t ask to be this way.  I didn’t ask ta be born.  I ain’t tryin’ to throw anyone under the bus, but I was created by the well-intentioned actions of one Urahara Kisuke—”

A hushed murmur went through the room at the utterance of the name.

“— again, I know he meant well.  My creation was no accident, make no mistake o’ that.  But I know why he did it, and I can’t fault ‘im for his actions.  Ya see, Urahara Kisuke was projectin’ the future an’ all that wisdom-filled garbage.

“He created me for the sole purpose of makin’ Ichigo very powerful very fast.  I have my suspicions this was expressly so that we’d eventually accumulate enough raw power and battle-honed skill to take on Sosuke Aizen an’ the army he’d been puttin’ together—”

A slightly louder murmur this time.  Shiro caught the words ‘impossible’, and ‘how’, as well as the name of the aforementioned traitorous ex-captain himself among the cacophony.

Shiro forged onward, intent on getting his piece in, “One Ryoka, no matter how promisin’, developin’ the power ta take on some of the Gotei’s strongest in a mere two weeks is a lil far-fetched, don’t ya think?  An’ yet he did.  Tha’ was ‘cause of me.  I’m the one who made it all possible.

“My mask prevented a fatal blow against first Abarai Renji, and again with Zaraki Kenpachi.  Cap’n Byakuya Kuchiki can vouch that I manifested an’ took over King’s body druin’ the fight against ‘im, an’ also that before I did, Kuchiki was beatin’ his ass into the ground.  Ya could say he wouldn’t’ve even beat ‘im if it weren’t for me.”

At this admission, all eyes set on the stoic captain of the Sixth.

Byakuya inclined his head, “He speaks the truth.”

Shiro cleared his throat, inadvertently drawing all eyes back to his person, “As I was sayin’... anytime I’ve taken over, I’ve always had King’s best interests at heart—”

“For clarification,” Yamamoto interrupted, “this ‘King’ you speak of is Kurosaki Ichigo, yes?”

“— ah… yeah, that’d be correct.  Sorry force o’ habit.  It’s a… er… runnin’ joke King— er, Ichigo— an’ I had goin’.”

Yamamoto waved a negligent hand, “Continue.”

“Thing is,” Shiro said hesitantly; this was a hit or miss tactic, “I’m, in essence, still Kurosaki Ichigo.  Jus’ a lil different.  THat’s what I meant when I said I was his other half.  I’m not even entirely a hollow— it has ta be obvious to ya guys.  I’m capable of cognitive reasonin’ an’ morality an’ all that shit.  I don’t hunger after souls, like other hollows.  Hell, I don’t even got a hole!”  At this, he ripped open his shihakusho to prove just that.  “See?”

Several captains muttered amongst themselves about the blatant lack of one of a hollow’s two core features, the hollow hole.

“In fact,” he said, “nor do I got a mask.  Not all the time, anyway.  Even Arrancar can’t get rid of their mask completely like I can.  They always got at least a fragment, no matter how small.”

Whispers of  _ ‘he’s right _ ’ cycled around the room.  It was was as if they’d begun to see him in a new light.  Suddenly, Shiro found thirteen attentive gazes settled on himself.  Even Yamamoto had a certain subtle eagerness about him.

“When ya condemned me an’ Ichigo like ya did back there, ya didn’t even try reasonin’ with me first.  I understan’ ya had no way of knowin’ I  _ could  _ be reasoned with, so I can’t fault ya’ll fer that.  But the fact remains.

“I was condemned to a fate worse than death without a trial, an’ fer what?  Now… no… I **chigo’s out there somewhere, an’ he’s some terrifyin’ monster!!** ” Toward the end of his last sentence, he was shouting at them all.  He couldn’t hold it in.

“He… this is because… because I— an’... I…”

A firm weight settled on Shiro’s shoulder as he babbled and stuttered on.  He looked back to see Kenpachi with an expression of restrained concern.

“I’m fine.  I’m alrigh’,” Shiro said shakily, more for his own sake than for that of his seven foot, battle-loving companion. “What happened with the captains out there; that was a isolated incident.  Self-defense.  I only attacked ‘cause it was the only perceivable way of escape.  I didn’t even kill anyone.  Everyone I attacked is alive an’ kickin’, an’ currently attendin’ this meetin’.

“I knew tha’ the moment I manifested, no one would listen ta me ‘cause I’m a hollow— none of ya can deny that— an’ also… I knew what would become of Ichigo if I was taken from ‘im…”

“If you knew, why didn’t you tell anyone?”

It was Byakuya who asked the question.

At his wit’s end, Shiro wheeled around and all but screamed at the top of his lungs, “Are ya bloody stupid?!  Oh, like ya’ll woulda just listened ta me if I’d told ya it’d drive King batshit if I was taken from ‘im!  Ya can’t honestly believe the shit yer sayin’!  In case it escaped yer notice,  _ I tried!! _ ”  

Shiro gave a pathetic whimper, and to his dawning horror, there were tears in his eyes.  Staring dejectedly down at the floor, he choked out, “... I tried…”

“Kurotsuchi Mayuri, that bastard—” Yamamoto looked offended at the venomously spat expletive, but allowed it to go without being chastised, “he sedated as when I went on that rampage.  By the time I woke, I was in King’s inner world an’ witnessin’ the destruction of his mind.  It was awful, but I couldn’t do anythin’.  That’s when…  _ ‘Zangetsu’  _ told me what’d happen if I was ripped away.”

The way he spoke the presumed zanpakuto’s name, as if implying he wasn’t the real Zangetsu didn’t go unnoticed.  However, questioning in that regard would have to be saved for later.  

Though unspoken, Yamamoto was already rethinking the initial death sentence he’d originally been considering, unbeknownst but not unsuspected by Shiro.  For that matter, everyone was.

“I…” Shiro sighed, “I was ripped from King’s inner world.  Sucked right outta ‘im— I don’t know how, so don’t bother askin’.  I just remember how painful it was.  Still aches actually, like a constant pang in my chest.”

Worried murmurs of how this could mean Shiro could become a true hollow were not missed by Shiro.

“I’m not denyin’ yer suspicions, ‘cause for all I know, ya may be right.  However, that hasn’t happened yet.  I promise that should I feel myself becomin’ a real hollow, I’ll personally deliver myself to the ol’ man’s doorstep and let i’m kill me.  Should it come to that.”

The aforementioned old man himself bristled minutely at being called old.

Shiro continued his woeful tale, nearly at his end, “When I told that scientist bastard in layman's terms exactly what would happen, he didn’t care.  All he cared ‘bout was his  _ research  _ and how  _ fascinatin’  _ it was,” Shiro spat, “he cared nothin’ ‘bout me.

“An’ more importantly, he cared nothin’ ‘bout Ichigo.  I begged him.  Fuck!  Hollows  _ never  _ beg.  Ever.  I begged him though, ‘cause there was lil else I could think ta do.  He didn’t listen, not even once, an’ he understimated how powerful Ichigo would become without me.  Thought he’d be weaker instead of stronger, even when I told him.

“I couldn’t even convince ‘im of the danger we were in.  Before long, we were outta time, an’ Ichigo had become that thing.  I couldn’t do  _ nothin’ _ , I was so… terrified.  He was nothin’ but a mindless beast, an’ he murdered that scientist bastard right before my eyes.  Bit his head clean off while the bastard had just been standin’ there.

“I think right before he died, that clown finally realized the hell he’d brought down on all our heads.”

The room shook with the combination of every captain’s unrestrained reiatsu as emotions ran high.  No doubt, Shiro’s story had shaken the very foundation of Gotei’s core.

Eventually, Yamamoto spoke, “Hollow of Ichigo, Shiro, for your crimes, I hereby sentence you to detainment.  You will be under watch of at least one captain at any given time.  How long your sentence lasts depends on you.”

Shiro cursed under his breath.  Sadly, it was better than he could have ever hoped for.

The other captains, whose opinions of Shiro had been vastly changed over the course of the trial, had no complaints.

So that was that.


	5. A Friend Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A life has been taken.

“Yamamoto-Soutaicho!!” Cried a nameless, unseated shinigami as he crashed through the heavy doors.

All others present tensed in anticipation.   _ Everyone  _ knew not to burst through the doors unannounced like that.  It caused tension and panic, which to some degree was exactly what was happening now.

“You had better have a good reason for entering during an important meeting like this,” Yamamoto intoned.  To his credit, he was still acting quite calm, all things considered.

“It is!!” The man stepped farther into the room, so all captains (and one ex-inner hollow) present could see him well, “Kurosaki Ichigo has been sighted!”

Shiro’s blood ran cold as ice in an instant.  Softly, he asked, “Where?”

The unseated shinigami looked as if he was contemplating whether or not it was okay to tell the white man with eyes that looked suspiciously identical to that of a hollow’s.  His gaze set questioningly in the general direction of the captain commander.

Yamamoto gave the slightest of inclinations with his head.

Only then did the shinigami speak, trying his best not to stare directly at Shiro, “Karakura town.  The witness claims he was not too far from the Kurosaki Clinic.”

Shiro clenched his fist until it hurt and felt the burning ache of his nails biting into the meaty flesh of his palm, “Dammit.”

Shiro was about ready to jump the gun and run off to the human world already, detainment be damned.

One thing stopped him, however.

The unseated man’s eyes were darting around the room nervously as he fidgeted with the hem of his uniform.  The behavior struck him as suspicious.  The shinigami had left a detail— most likely a sufficiently crucial detail— out in his frantic report.

Why?

Whatever the reason, Shiro wasn’t about to let anyone withhold information about his other half.

“What are you hiding, Shinigami?” Shiro hissed venomously.

The man glanced to Yamamoto again.

Yamamoto was no longer inclined to give leniency, being of the same opinion as Shiro.  His eyes opened, but remained narrowed as he spoke a single word in a vaguely ominous tone, “Speak.”

“The person who reported the sighting was the shinigami stationed in Karakura, one Kurumadani Zennosuke, sir!” The man reported rather quickly, a drop of sweat trickling down from his forehead. “However, when he made the report of the sighting, toward the end we were able to hear screams and indecipherable strange crunching sounds before the line abruptly went dead.

“There is strong reason to believe Kurumadani is deceased, and has been killed by Kurosaki Ichigo, sir!”

Making a trip to the human world was nearly painless.

It was almost as if old man Yamamoto actually trusted a hollow, of all the bizarrest things.  If not for the fact he’d sent Kenpachi to ‘keep an eye on him’, Shiro may have been inclined to believe that.

Then again, it wasn’t hard to see the way Kenpachi favoured Shiro, even for that old man.  Perhaps he could put more stock in the captain commander’s seemingly acceptance.

Kenpachi really had taken a shining to Shiro.  If not for the circumstance, the hollow may have taken much more amusement from the unorthodox turn of events.

“We are nearing Kurosaki Clinic,” Kenpachi deigned to inform Shiro, breaking him out of his inner musings.

He thanked the captain for the courtesy.

Kenpachi gruffly replied, “No problem.  Gotta make sure you got your head on straight, don’t I?  You got yourself prepared for what we might find, I hope.  We need to assume this is a worst case scenario situation.

“There’s a very real chance you won’t like what you see.”

“I’m aware of the consequence,” Shiro replied stiffly, “all the more reason I must do this.  For Ichigo’s sake.  Gotta do damage control.  If there’s a shred of a chance I can salvage somethin’, I need ta try...:

“If Ichigo was… if he was… well, he’d have ‘preciated the sentiment is what I’m tryin’ ta say.”

Kenpachi only nodded.

They were at the door.  Shiro took a deep breath and a long step forward.

He couldn’t feel any reiatsu within.  Seeing as he knew Ichigo’s mind like the back of his hand, even despite being just a few years old individually, he had it on good authority Isshin was a shinigami.

Which meant if he was home, there should have been a spark or glow, or  _ something _ .

He only hoped the reason he felt nothing was because Ichigo’s father wasn’t home.

Another deep breath and his hand was on the doorknob.  He turned it.

The door was open.  He kept praying, over and over like a mantra.  He prayed three bodies— one adult sized, but two others much too tiny to die so young— of Ichigo’s family wasn’t what he’d encounter.

The kitchen was empty, as was the living room.  No bodies in the entire downstairs, though there was an eerie silence that gave an air of foreboding.

Kenpachi followed him silently at a sedate pace.  Shiro paid him no mind.

Turning toward the way he came, he headed up the stairs.

Every step farther up made the tension grow thicker.  Like a noose tightening around his throat.

Still he proceeded.  He had to, he reminded himself.  For Ichigo.  For the formerly sane substitue shinigami.  It was the least he could do.  He had to see the substitute shinigami’s family was safe.

The top step gave an ominous creak.  It made Shiro leap a foot in the air.  A fraction of a second later, he realized he was the one to make the sound.

He sighed.  Allowed his shoulders to relax minutely.  Silence reigned once more.

He took the last step up and proceeded down the hall.  Nothing in the bathroom.  Not in Karin and Yuzu’s room either.  Isshin’s room was empty.

He turned toward the last room.

Ichigo’s room.

He smelled the blood before he even pushed the ajar door further open.

Like the last step on the stairs, the door gave a loud creak as it opened.

At first, all Shiro registered was blood.  Everywhere.  His sight roamed the room.  Took in all the blood.  His eyes kept passing over the body slumped in front of the window, unseeing.

He wasn’t ready to see the identity of whoever’s corpse was there.

It may have been shock.  Shiro had heard when humans saw something extremely traumatic, they sometimes wouldn’t consciously register what it was they were looking at upon initially seeing it.  It was a defense mechanism of sorts, for the psyche. 

He never thought hollows were just the same.

Maybe it was because he was an inner hollow. Even as he told himself it was this and nothing more, he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that wasn’t quite right.  Not even most hollows would be able to stomach the carnage Ichigo was leaving in his wake.

At least not the ones capable of cognitive thinking.  Which, contrary to popular believe in the Seireitei, was a more common occurrence than anyone cared to admit.

Finally, his eyes landed on the corpse for the last time.  Amber on obsidian eyes widened.

Kenpachi stepped up alongside Shiro and muttered under his breath, “My god.”

Shiro twitched, having heard him in the chilling silence, “Pretty bad, ain’t it?” He replied in a wispy tone.

“Aa…”

“Wasn’t he the strongest of their lil club?”

“Wouldn’t know.”

“The others won’t be happy.”

“Wouldn’t think so.”

“They’ll want revenge.”

“Probably.”

“He’ll slaughter them too if they come for him.  It’d be child’s play.”

“Probably.”

Before them lay the mutilated corpse of one Hirako Shinji.  The severed halves of his ribcage were left grotesquely splayed, allowing Shiro and Kenpachi to receive a wonderful tour of his insides.

What was left of them anyway.

Shiro couldn’t help the twinge of guilt at the relief flooding him.

Hirako Shinji lay dead.  Ichigo’s family had been spared.

“Nothing wrong with being glad your loved ones are safe; I’d feel the same if it was Yachiru,” Kenpachi said, as if replying to his private thoughts.

Shiro to give him a startled deer-in-the-headlights look.

Kenpachi shrugged, cracking his neck to the side, “Ya said that out loud.”

“Oh,” Shiro averted his gaze, “so who’s gonna tell the Vizard?”

Kenpachi turned away, walking out and prompting the hollow to follow, “You’re the only one who knows how to find them.  ‘Sides Ichigo, anyway, but we both know he won’t be helping us anytime soon.”

Shiro sighed, “I was afraid ya’d say that…”


	6. Hirako Shinji Was Dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lies can be hurt. The truth can be worse.

Upon their return to Sereitei (Vizard in tow), there was an instant uproar.  Many shinigami had been on edge thanks to the ex-inner hollow, but it appeared bringing seven hollowfied shinigami along with them back to Seireitei was the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back.

It was just well they reported straight to Yamamoto.  They had no choice but to bring the Vizard along, or risk a possible mauling of the Vizard, the shinigami, or if they were especially unlucky— both.

They hurried to the captain commander with a few expertly placed shunpos (and sonido, on Shiro’s part), to lose their aggravating tail.

They didn’t relax until they were with the captain commander, safely behind closed doors.  Doors which were sealed shut this time to prevent any explicitly unnecessary interruptions.

“I trust you have a good reason for putting these traitors before my sight,” Yamamoto said, but there was no emotion, no accusation in the statement.

Perhaps that was just as well.  It seemed the old man’s beliefs had been thoroughly shaken by recent events, so it was a given he was unsurprised and not opposed to any further major changes.

They really did need all the firepower they could if they wanted to survive the not-Ichigo’s wrath.  Every sword counted.  Divided, they’d be unmercifully crushed.

“Listen, ol’ man Yama,” Shiro replied, just as emotionlessly, “first an’ foremost, they ain’t traitors.  I know my word don’t mean much, but it’s true.  THey didn’t choose ta be hollowfied— Aizen made ‘em that way.  They fortunate an’ hardly enough to survive the process an’ become the sane warriors ya see now…

“Secondly… they ain’t safe in the human world.  I suppose ya may have noticed a particular Vizard missin’ from their troupe.”

“Hirako Shinji,” Yamamoto said, slightly breathless, as he realized.

“Got it in one, ol’ man,” Shiro tapped his nose, “I’ll just tell ya up front. He’s dead.”

“Tell me.”

“Well… It’s a long story…”

_ Finding the Vizard hideout wasn’t to difficult.  As Kenpachi had so succinctly put it, Shiro was the only (relatively) sane person who knew the location.  Rather he was the only one who still had some semblance of morality and compassion who still knew where they resided. _

_ Upon arrival, they got the usual ‘warm welcome’ as was standard procedure for any hollow visitors.  Which was to say, a zanpakuto or two against his throat. _

_ Just his.  It would seem Kenpachi was entirely exempt from the treatment. _

_ “Ahh… the welcomin’ committee,” Shiro smirked sardonically, “so wonderful of ya ta personally come an’ greet us.  Not sure a sword to the throat is the proper way ta do a handshake though.” _

_ “Shut up, hollow,” Lisa snapped, pressing the tip of her zanpakuto against his throat.  As a small droplet of blood bloomed beneath the blade and oozed down to rest at his collarbone, all others present (Kenpachi included) couldn’t help but notice Shiro bled black. _

_ Hiyori, who also held the inverted lookalike of Ichigo at swordpoint, scowled at him, “We felt Shinji-baldy’s reiatsu drop off the map.  Was that you?  Where did you take him?!” _

_ Her words, the phrasing and tone that implied there was no way the blond Vizard leader could be anything but alive, caused that twinge of guilt to spark back up twice as strong as before.  It burned somewhere inside his ribcage, like someone had set a fire within. _

_ The smirk he’d worn before dropped into a much more melancholy expression.  It had the Vizard all reeling, momentarily startled by the expression.  It didn’t look natural on a hollow, would have been much more at home on a human.  It made it very difficult to perceive him as a foe, let alone harm him. _

_ Lisa and Hiyori hardened their resolves a moment later, pressing their zanpakutos more firmly against Shiro’s trachea. _

_ “You’re wearing our patience thin, hollow.  Not that we reserve much for your kind to begin with,” Lisa spoke in monotone. _

_ “Hold yer horses and sh’up,” Shiro hissed, shoving the zanpakutos away in a fluid motion and used sonido to back up four steps or so.  He scowled at the two, and all the others for that matter, “the only reason ya were able ta hold me at sword point like that was because I  _ let  _ ya ‘cause I felt bad.  I know y’all are emotional, I got that but I ain’t just gonna lie down an’ let ya tear inta me at yer leisure. _

_ “I’ve come ta tell ya Hirako Shinji is dead,” he said, a little more bluntly than was strictly necessary.   _

_ He had to, or he feared he himself would be overtaken by emotions he wish he didn’t have.  It made him long for the pleasant numbness that hollows were typically known to feel. _

_ He took in a shaky breath, glancing away from the untrusting, angry gazes of the Vizard, “Murdered.  An’ no, I didn’t kill ‘im, so get that thought outta yer brains this instant,” he’d looked back at them as he spoke the last few words, but turned his gaze away again as he scowled, “never o’ killed him, contrary to consensus.” _

_ Kenpachi snickered from just behind him. _

_ “Hush,” Shiro snapped, “this is serious, ya asswipe.” _

_ Kenpachi sobered, looking away in deferance.  Even he couldn’t deny the truth to those words. _

_ Though they were mostly consumed by the revelation of their jovial leader’s fate, they were still able to display puzzlement at the bizarre way the Eleventh division captain (a shinigami) and Shiro (a hollow) were interacting. _

_ Zaraki Kenpachi was anything but weak or submissive, and yet he was allowing this hollow to push him around and snap on him so casually.  As if it had happened before.  As if it happened all the time, even. _

_ So odd was it that Hiyori actually voiced what every Vizard was thinking, “Why are ya letting that hollow boss you around like that?” She jabbed a finger at the extremely pale hollow. _

_ “You guys really have missed a lot,” Kenpachi rolled his eyes _ — rolled his eyes!

_ The hollow’s snarkiness must have been rubbing off on him.  They clearly had been around each other for a while, and from what they’d glimpsed of Shiro, he was just chock full of sass. _

_ “I got diplomatic immunity!” Shiro declared, cackling maniacally. _

_ “That’s a lie.  Don’t listen to him.  He’s a dirty liar and he knows it,” Kenpachi said with a perfectly straight face, while the hollow continued to howl with laughter.  The captain slapped the pale Ichigo lookalike upside the head, “Focus, dumbass.  Didn’t you just say we came here for a reason?” _

_ Shiro stopped and looked back to the shocked Vizard, “I’ma tell it to ya straight; Ichigo killed ‘im.” _

_ They stood there, waiting for the punchline. _

_ “I’m  _ not  _ kiddin’,” Shiro ground out. _

_ “This isn’t funny,” Hiyori snapped, “‘sides, aren’t you his hollow?  Or part of him, anyway?  You look just like him, so don’t even try to deny it.  Why isn’t Ichigo in control?” _

_ “God _ damn, _ how stupid are ya?!” Shiro snapped right back, causing her to bristle at the insult, but the hollow forged on, clearly on a roll now.  “I’m not gonna joke about somethin’ like this!  I never said it was funny, but the truth o’ the matter is Ichigo is the one who killed ‘im.  An’ yeah, I’m technically him, but I’m not a part of ‘im anymore! _

_ “Kurotsuchi Mayuri personally saw ta that…” _

_ Lisa was first to speak up, “What are you saying exactly?” _

_ “Are you trying to say that clown bastard found a way to rip you from his soul?” Hiyori asked.  Shiro supposed there was no love lost between her and the late Twelfth division captain. _

_ Hachi and Mashiro, the Green-Haired Menace, were watching him curiously.  Lisa was indifferent.  Hiyori looked frustrated, and perhaps a little pensive.  Kensei’s eyes were narrowed, expression dark, though he did not speak even once.  Rose, Love looked unsure of what to think or feel. _

_ “Took great enjoyment from it, too,” Shiro confirmed.  Hesitated.  Added, “Though he didn’t really live long enough ta celebrate the accomplishment.” _

_ “Did you kill him?” Lisa questioned him suspiciously. _

_ “Pff… I wish,” Shiro muttered scornfully, “how I’da loved ta tear inta his hide, eat his insides… okay, maybe not that.  They’d probably ‘ave given me indigestion.  Good ol’ Kingy did the honors.” _

_ The way he worded it and the tone he used was enough to convince them he wasn’t lying.  Someone who was trying to lie their way out of a conviction wouldn’t speak of prior intent to kill or premeditation of such. _

_ Which meant… he spoke the truth… The gravity of that terrible revelation was suffocating. _

_ “So he’d dead then?” Hiyori asked in a weak, barely heard voice.  Her eyes were curiously wet, though no one cared to call her out on it.  “Just like that?” _

_ The heartbreak in those few words was easily heard. _

_ “‘Fraid so, shinigami,” Shiro was pained to re-enunciate. _

_ “T-... take me to him,” she said in that same heartbroken tone. _

_ “Hiyori!” Cried a few of the Vizard in protest. _

_ She wheeled around on them with a fierce glare, “I need to see with my own eyes!  I need to see he’s really dead, dammit…!” She faltered.  “I can’t rest until I know for sure…”  _

_ She blinked furiously so the tears wouldn’t fall.  Not yet.  Hiyori turned to look back at Shiro and Kenpachi, “Take me to him.” _

_ “Very well,” Shiro said, “I hope ya know what yer gettin’ yerself into.” _

_ “There’s no use talking her out of it when she gets like this,” Kensei spoke for the first time, expression unreadable, “she’s dead set on it.” _

_ All the Vizard felt the pain of loss as their unspoken suspicions had been confirmed, but none more so than Hiyori.  It had always gone unsaid the blonde and blond were deeply intertwined, silently in love and dedicated to each other like no other. _

_ Shinji had always been there for Hiyori, a calm reassurance that she was not alone in the world.  He’d been the one to keep her sane after they’d become Vizard.  The other Vizard feared that seeing Hirako like that would be what finally broke her. _

_ There was nothing for it.  What would happen,  _ would  _ inevitably happen. _

_ The unnatural silence of the Kurosaki Clinic was shattered by an earsplitting shriek. _

_ The Vizard and Shiro, and Kenpachi stood back, not daring to enter the bedroom, as if it was some sacred place.  Though it was more of an unrivaled unholy place.  A living hell especially, no matter how inadvertently, made for Hiyori. _

_ She fell to her hands and knees near Hirako’s bloodied corpse, crawling the last few inches forward.  Lifted a shaky hand to touch the delicate high cheekbones of the man’s face. _

_ The Vizard leader was one of few victims wherein Ichigo had left the head wholly untouched.  No one was certain whether this was a blessing or a curse. _

_ A little of both, Shiro decided darkly, but mainly the latter. _

_ “Shinji… Shinji!!” Hiyori screamed as she sobbed, clutching at the man’s face, stared into his glassy, unseeing eyes. _

_ Then, to everyone’s utter astonishment, she pulled back her fist and gave the dead man a hard right hook. _

_ Mashiro was already stepping forward to intervene, “Hiyorin…!” _

_ Kensei held her fast with a single hand set on her shoulder, pulling her back.  She looked back at him with a small frown, but he wasn’t even looking at her.  No one was. _

_ Everyone stared at Hiyori with agony written plainly on their faces, anguish shining in their eyes. _

_ “Wake up… wake up, you stupid baldy!” Hiyori screamed, punching his now cold face again a few times.  Her fists slowed as she wilted with a whimper, “... wake up…” _

_ Over and over, she said it, as if it truly would wake him.  As if she’d hear him and sit up with a deep breath and tell them he had them all fooled so well. _

_ As if she didn’t notice the drying blood coating the floor.  As if she didn’t see the way his chest gaped open.  Or the blatant lack of vital organs required for life.   _

_ They all knew she knew.  No one bothered to tell her he truly was dead.  She needed to accept it on her own. _

_ The other Vizard watched on with wet eyes.  The death of their longtime friend and leader was tearing them apart from the inside out. _

_ “His body should dissolve into reishi soon,” Kenpachi told them, “... he’s been dead for a while.” _

_ As if his words were a cue, Hachi, Mashiro, and Lisa all shook as repressed tears began to fall.  Kensei swallowed hard, trying to rid himself of the lump constricting his airway.  Soon, Love and Rose were also crying freely. _

_ Hiyori wailed, “ _ **_Shinji!!!_ ** _ ” _

_ No one had the heart to watch any longer when Hiyori clung to her dead companion’s body, hugging him tightly as she sobbed into his blood-soaked shirt. _

_ As if it was finally made real, a twinge of pain stabbed Shiro’s chest.  HIrako hadn’t been nearly as significant a person as Ichigo’s family, but Shiro was certain the reason the family’s corpses weren’t here was because the now dead blond had saved them _ —  _ at the price of his own life. _

_ Furthermore, despite everything, Hirako had also been a friend of Ichigo’s, and by extension a friend of Shiro’s, even though they never personally met. _

_ Shiro choked on the air he was trying to breathe in.  He allowed a broken, raspy breath escape after a moment, trying his damnedest not to cry with the rest of them. _

_ Before, no one vaguely important to him had been killed by the beast.  He could just brush off the deaths of many, because none of them mattered to him.  He’d been living in a blissfully numb, detached bubble where nothing was wrong. _

_ But not anymore. _

_ The first truly important person was lost. _

**_Hirako Shinji was dead._ **

“— ... so that’s what happened,” Shiro finished lamely.  He scratched an itch at the back of his head, “Kenny an’ I decided we couldn’t leave the rest there ta fend for themselves, what with emotional duress an’ all.  There’s also the chance that thing woulda decided ta follow Hirako’s scent right back ta their hideous.  Not a big chance, I suppose, but it was still there.”

Yamamoto’s eyes settled on each Vizard individually, landing on Hiyori last.  Her eyes were red, the skin around them swollen and inflamed, and there was the faintest hint of the beginnings of dark circles.  Her bottom lip was quivering ever so slightly.  Raw emotion was written in every minute detail of her face.

“Very well,” Yamamoto relented, “they may stay.”

Had the circumstance been any different, the Vizards’ faces may have lit up with surprise and open gratitude.  However, thanks to the absence of one unforgettable face, they each merely stared with dead eyes, not really focusing on anything in particular.

They’d be lucky if they ever did heal from this devastating  emotional wound.  Shiro would be thoroughly amazed if they ever even came close to healing.

He couldn’t shake the realization.  It just kept haunting him, rearing its ugly head like an aftertaste that just wouldn’t go away.  Every time he’d thought he finally pushed it out of his mind, it came back and made his head ache horridly.

**_Hirako Shinji was dead._ **


End file.
